


the winds will carry us (away)

by stumbling_through_the_world



Series: set me on fire (let's burn together) [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: But Mostly Smut, F/F, a little training, set before 2.14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3481517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stumbling_through_the_world/pseuds/stumbling_through_the_world
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke and Lexa on the night before the battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the winds will carry us (away)

The camp is dark with night as she slips inside the only tent still lit. Lexa is stretched out on her cot, her eyes open, trailing Clarke’s entry.

“You are not resting,” she says.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she explains. “Your candles were on.” She’s not quite certain why she came here. She’s been restless ever since she went to bed, twisting and turning, worries and the threats of nightmares keeping her awake. Raven is probably still up and Octavia is on guard duty and they would have kept her company, but Clarke _wants_ to be here _._

Lexa sighs softly. “You will be exhausted in the morning.”

“I can leave,” she offers, “if you want to sleep.”

The Commander shakes her head, standing up instead. Clarke watches her walk towards the middle of the room, until they’re standing with no more than a yard between them. “Attack me,” Lexa says.

“What?”

“You are unskilled at combat without a weapon.”

“I have a weapon,” she points out.

Lexa gives her one of those looks, the ones Clarke is almost certain are reserved for her and usually translate to _you’re not living up to your potential as a leader, Clarke._ “Weapons can get lost quickly in battle. And without ammunition, your gun is useless. If you can not sleep, you might as well train. Sometimes it helps.”

And suddenly this feels less like Lexa attacking her ability to survive and more like concern. She nods. “Okay, fine. But there are candles everywhere here,” she adds. “We’ll start a fire.”

“Is is astounding, Clarke, how you lead your people into battle with me and yet have so little faith in my abilities. We will not start a fire.”

And, to be honest, most of the candles that were on when she was here earlier tonight are extinguished by now.

“Attack me,” Lexa repeats and Clarke meets her gaze, fiery and strong, and obliges.

Lexa’s a good teacher, considering she’s _Lexa._ She’s a lot more patient with fighting lessons than with life lessons, handing out careful, explanatory advice and Clarke is starting to find some kind of peace in the rhythms of their movement, even if constantly losing is a little frustrating.

She’s breathless and exhausted and maybe that’s why it takes her several moments to realize the position they’re in, Lexa pinning her hands together above her head and straddling her waist. Lexa hasn’t noticed yet- or she has a better poker face than Clarke’s giving her credit for.

And Clarke is good at fighting. She may not have Lexa’s skills, but she’s good at winning. (It’s how she survived.) Lexa’s not _easy_ , and Clarke should not be tempting fate, because they’re not allowed. And if this goes wrong, she’s probably going to get a sermon about how lust is weakness.

(But the memory of last time is still there and Clarke is tempted.)

She lowers her eyelashes slightly and traces over her lips with her tongue and it’s working. Lexa’s eyes are trained on her in a different way now and Clarke thrusts her hips slightly, twisting out of Lexa’s hold on her wrist and flipping them over until she’s the one pressing Lexa to the ground.

Lexa looks up at her, almost _amused._ “So this is how you fight, Clarke?”

“I’m creative,” she defends.

“And how shall you fight those not as susceptible to your wiles as I am?”

She knows that Lexa could easily break free if she wanted to. So far, though, neither of them has moved. Instead, Clarke’s pressing her hands to the ground of the tent and she can feel Lexa’s body beneath her, soft and hard and warm. She’s exquisitely beautiful, Clarke thinks, even though she shouldn’t. Her hair is only loosely braided and the majority is spilling over her shoulders. Her lips, full and plump, are slightly parted and even lying on the ground, she is still every bit the Commander, her eyes filled with calm and confidence and something Clarke can’t quite place but _likes_. She lets her eyes dip deeper and feels Lexa’s gaze on her.

“Perhaps you should move,” Lexa suggests.

“Maybe you should surrender,” she replies.

“I do not surrender,” Lexa informs her and her hands move and Clarke’s pretty sure that they’re about to be fighting again. She resists, because it’s not just Lexa who doesn’t loose and somewhere between that, they manage to end up even more entangled.

Her hands are on Lexa’s shoulder now and while her weight down on Lexa was probably a pretty good way to make sure that she wouldn’t flip them over, it’s not exactly made their position less compromising.

“Clarke,” Lexa’s voice is that kind of deep and sultry again and even though she’s sure it’s supposed to be reprimanding, it makes her want more, not less.

Her “yes” is half-swallowed by Lexa’s lips on hers.

And she should really ask Lexa if the Grounders make some kind of lip balm, because Lexa’s lips are soft beneath her own, chapped ones. She doesn’t linger on that, not when Lexa is beneath her, lovely and beautiful and strong. She traces Lexa’s lips with her tongue before biting, lightly and hears Lexa groan in the most delicious way.

This time, she doesn’t resist when Lexa lifts her up and _oh fuck,_ she’d known Lexa was strong, warrior and all, but Lexa’s hand are wrapped around her body and she’s being carried through the room, towards the cot in the corner and _god damn, this is really, really hot._

The way Lexa lays her down is almost gentle and when she undresses Clarke it’s slow and very, very careful. Her hands are soft when they cover the free skin and it makes Clarke want in so many different ways.

She’s naked when Lexa’s mouth moves over her body, soft lips tracing over her collarbone and her neck.

This isn’t what she expected, not after last time and not from Lexa, who commands armies and men, who is strong and powerful and never weak, and yet she’s not surprised at all. Lexa’s lips cover her breasts and she’s still so very careful, tender and very, very skilled and Clarke feels her body arching upwards, towards her.

Tomorrow, there will be no bruise on her body, no mark on her skin, no sign of Lexa. She almost wishes it were different, that she could go into battle with some reminder that this, here, now, is real. But then, she learned along time ago that you can never really _see_ the most important things. So maybe it doesn’t matter.

Lexa moves, away from her and Clarke wants to complain, hold her back. Before she can, Lexa’s mouth is on her and she moans, gasps, far, far too loud.

Someone will hear her, but she can’t bring herself to care, not with Lexa’s lips drawing patterns on her, setting her ablaze. She grabs the furs with her hands, clinging almost desperately and then Lexa shifts just a little, one of her hands covering Clarke’s and the other on her hip and this feels good. (Safe.)

She feels like she’s flying and she feels like Lexa is tethering her to the ground.

Lexa does _something_ with her tongue and Clarke bites down on her own lip, because screaming would not be a good idea. She’s a mess, pushing her body against Lexa, desperate and needy and wanting and maybe that’s her voice, begging Lexa not to stop and she doesn’t, pulls Clarke closer instead.

She’s dizzy and crazy and peaceful and on fire and _good._

She falls into pieces and tumbles to the ground and Lexa’s hand stays on her hip, anchoring, calming. Seconds pass until she opens her eyes and Lexa is hovering above her, something that could almost be a smile on her.

“Sleep,” she says, and Clarke feels a hand linger on her forehead. She wants to move, to say one of the many things crossing through her mind right now, to get Lexa naked, but she the exhaustion of the last days is catching up with her.

“Sleep,” Lexa repeats and Clarke lets herself succumb to the darkness.

(She’ll find her way back.)

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to come say hi, you can find me on tumblr at http://juststumblingthroughtheworld.tumblr.com/ :)


End file.
